The Hunter
by Dionne R
Summary: Tekken/Devil May Cry crossover, also including original characters. When Dante is hired by Heihachi to take out a demon, everything about the mission is fishy... I got a couple reviews, hopefully this next chapter won't disappoint! : Thank you!
1. Chapter 1

The Hunter

The Hunter

By: Dionne R.

Disclaimer: _Devil May Cry_ is property of Capcom. _Tekken _is property of Namco.

Chapter 1

Glistening in the moonlight effervescently, silver locks fell over poignant, icy blue eyes. The obscured figure surveyed the night as a zephyr slightly chilled him through his trench coat-style jacket. The tails of the jacket brushed past Ebony and Ivory, snuggly secured at either ends of sturdy hips. He briskly walked.

Instincts screamed loudly in Dante's head, telling him he wasn't alone. He always listened to his instincts. His instincts kept him alive. Quickly pondering whether to unsheathe his blade from behind his back or simply reach for his guns, he decided on the latter—especially after hearing a slight _woosh _in the sky. Despite the kick produced by the firing capabilities of the weapons, Dante chose them for reliability and effectiveness—with his aim and the guns' power, no foe was safe.

Effortlessly slipping them from their leather holsters, they were soon pointed into the midnight sky. A blanched moon stared back at him mockingly, as clouds moved over it like a veil covering a face. Rain was eminent. Narrowing his eyes, the hunter took a few steps back, never taking his aim off the sky. He couldn't help but blink—yet as he did, he caught sight of what had triggered his vigilant senses: black wings. Telling himself that firing wouldn't be wise at this point, Dante simply lowered his guns slightly and headed inside the multi-floored, billion-dollar Mishima Zaibatsu building. _Not yet, _he told himself to calm his nerves. It hardly proved effective.

* * *

The dimly-lit office was the very definition of meticulous organization. Not a paperclip was out of place, and the mahogany desktop was void of rubbish and mess. A single scroll lay unraveled under the scrutiny of a magnifying glass and a solitary, fluorescent light bulb.

_Your esoteric family heirloom won't confuse me for long, Sparda, _Heihachi Mishima thought with a smirk as he jotted notes on a stenograph in black ink. Rather than trusting the job of decoding the scroll to his linguists, the aging conglomerate wanted to decipher its secrets for himself. After all, it would save him the job of killing them once they had completed the task. Not that this was a deciding factor in who did the decoding—what the hell difference did a few snot-nosed, Ivy League-educated linguists make anyway?

"Mr. Mishima," a soft voice called from outside the tycoon's personal haven, accompanied by a light rap.

"What?!" he snapped as the door opened, "Didn't I tell you I didn't want to be disturbed?"

Swallowing slightly, the meek secretary spoke up, "It's him, sir."

A devilish grin curved his lips, "Why didn't you say so? Let him in."

She disappeared quicker than she had come, and Dante entered the room a moment later.

_He looks just like his father, _the elder Mishima thought as he set down the magnifying glass and sprawled his hands over his desk, "You're a hard man to get a hold of, son of Sparda. A man has to go through heaven and hell to find you."

Dante tilted his head and crossed his arms, "Nah. Just hell," shifting his weight onto his right leg.

Heihachi chuckled. Dante didn't bother.

"I have a task for you, demon hunter."

"I assumed as much."

Heihachi grunted at the insolence, but let it go, "I've got a thorn in my side; one that I'd like you to eradicate for me," he proceeded to explain, "I need a demon captured. He goes by the name of Jin. Bring him to me…. Alive."

"Certainly you're not expecting me to do this out of the kindness of my heart," Dante retorted, arching a brow, "Especially a job that involves leaving a demon _alive_."

_That's twice, _Heihachi thought, perceiving arrogance from the young man's face. Still, he wouldn't be wearing the look for long, as the conglomerate well knew, "I have something you've been searching for," giving his own amused look.

The demon hunter's face fell. He didn't even bother with pretense; both men knew what the object in question was. _How could he have known…?_

"As a matter of fact…" Heihachi trailed off, moving the magnifying glass from its spot and rolling up the scroll to show Dante the family crest.

An eternity of silence filled the time span of sixty seconds.

"What's to say I won't kill you and take it?" the young one asked, his eyes flashing dangerously as he slowly set his finger on the guns he'd set back in their holsters merely moments before.

"What's to say that once you do, you'll make it out of this building alive?" sneered Heihachi, giving his own dangerous look, "Or more importantly, that the scroll will make it out?"

_Smart bastard, _Dante thought, though his expression didn't betray his cool, "Very well, old man," pushing Heihachi's buttons, "Done."

Scorn couldn't help but glisten in the aging eyes as the demon hunter turned on his heels and left, "Ostentatious little shit."

* * *

Pellets of rain crashed on pavement as bolts of lightning lit up the sky to guide their path. Gloomy clouds stretched across the vast expanse. Even the cathedral had an ominous presence about it—a place which normally served as refuge to lost souls. The red, stained-glass panes resembled bloody water. The angels resembled gargoyles. Still, some had no other place to turn.

Opening slowly because of their huge size, the portals projected the gloom of the night into the warmth of the church. Accompanied by the gloom was the thud of black boots on the marble ground. The doors closed once more, protecting the young woman from the outer elements. She shook out her small umbrella, and closed it neatly; slipping it in the black messenger back hanging on her left shoulder. Dressed in black, hip-hugging jeans and a tight, corset-style halter top, she hardly belonged in a church. As a measure of decency—but more for protection from the weather—she also decked a leather motocross jacket.

Not caring who was offended by her apparel—though there weren't many people in a church at midnight, to offend—she walked down the isle to the altar where a few candles were already lit. Sighing as her shoulder-length, black and copper locks fell in her face, the young woman picked up one of the other candles to light her own. _I miss you, _she thought, closing her eyes. Her moment was short lived. Catching the sound of faint footsteps behind her, she slowly and cautiously slipped a manicured hand behind her back. As the footsteps approached closer, she spun around to aim a gun at her prospective attacker and came face to face with the priest.

"Even in the house of God, Dionne? What would your mother say?"

The young woman made the sign of the cross, "Sorry, father. Old habits die hard. Besides," slipping the gun back to its place at the small of her back, "She hasn't had many complaints these past ten years," allowing a melancholy smile to curve her luscious lips.

"Indeed. Being dead does complicate one's ability to complain," he joked before allowing a moment to pass. He sighed, knowing the reason she was there, "Has it been a year already?"

The smile faded as the young woman hung her head slightly. Swallowing the sobs which were rising from her chest, she remained taciturn. Without another word, she left, feeling the priest's sad gaze upon her.

"_Will you stop pacing and just look at me?" _

_Jin Kazama stopped in his tracks and blinked, snapping himself from the cage of his mind. It was hard for him to focus on anything nowadays. The anticipation of being able to acquire his revenge was beginning to consume him. This was evident in his unusually stony expression—especially to his significant other. _

Opening the doors and returning to the darkness of dusk, she put out a palm to feel the sky for the driving rain. Fortunately for her, it had eased up during the course of her short visit.

"_Huh?" sounding dazed. His jet-black bangs hung over his piercing, ebony eyes. In the isolated and dusty training room of the gym, his bright white and black gi practically illuminated his slim body. Even his physical appearance was being affected by his mental obsession. _

_Dionne rolled her eyes and grabbed his jaw in her hands, "Please don't do this."_

_Jin tore free from her grip and turned his back to her, "If I don't kill him, he's going to come after me…"_

A slight breeze blew, chilling her to the bone. She rubbed her biceps as she felt another chill down her spine.

"_He doesn't know where to find you!" _

"_And you think that'll stop him?!" Jin snapped, turning to face her again. Moving closer to her, he clenched a wrapped knuckle, "That bastard's never going to stop. He even dug up my father's fucking corpse!"_

Feeling eyes on her, she directed her gaze over her shoulder without turning her head too much. A silhouette flooded her peripheral vision.

_"Promise me you'll come back," she uttered almost inaudibly as her foundation crumbled. She threw her arms around her tormented lover._

_Taking a moment to register the gentle embrace, Jin sighed and finally wrapped his arms around her waist. He couldn't promise. He didn't._

Shaking her perceived optimism, she sighed. _He's gone. Stop fooling yourself._ She simply flounced down the steps and began her journey home.

* * *

_09h00_

Sunlight streamed in through the horizontal blinds. Raising a hand to shield his eyes, Dante groaned. Last night had been hellish. _I knew I should have killed the bastard…then I could have killed the demon just for the hell of it._

Rolling over onto his stomach, he pushed his torso up first with a sigh and then got himself out of bed. He headed to the bathroom as he noncommittally scratched at his bare chest. Not bothering to glance at his reflection in the mirror above his sink, he simply ducked his head while turning on the water to wash his face.

_Where the hell did he get the scroll from?_

Looking up into his own steal-hued eyes, Dante tried to push these thoughts aside. It was too early for such tangents. There was hunting to be done.

_Ringgg!!_

He was glad for the interruption from his thoughts. Still, he didn't answer the phone. Instead, he slipped off his boxers, and opened the door to his shower. Stepping inside, he turned the water on scalding hot before shutting the door. By the last ring, the glass had started fogging.

Allowing the water to stream down his face and torso, Dante moved his hands over his eyes. _I have my own demons to fight,_ thinking of his family who no longer existed.

Vergil was as good as dead, sealed in hell by Dante's own hands.

His father was dead—a good man, whose sacrafice was seeming to amount to nothing.

His mother.

He remembered how powerless he felt; when he lost both his parents at once. He hadn't understood why before, but he did now. Vergil was no comfort, so Dante was left empty—inconsolable. A sense of completeness always filled his void whenever he killed another demon.

Of course, his employer didn't know this. None of his former employers ever had. After all, who gave a shit why he did what he did? All they knew was that he was the best at it.

Setting his hands on the walls as the water streamed down his back, Dante shook his shaggy locks.

* * *

Heihachi grunted impatiently as the elevator took its time getting to the 20th floor. His private elevator was broken, making it necessary for him to use a public elevator—one which stopped on all floors rather than just his. This was especially annoying since he had calls to make, people to plague and lackeys to manipulate.

After about twenty minutes, he was finally on his floor. Still, it was twenty minutes longer than he wanted to wait. Stepping off the elevator, he strutted to his office. The petite and quiet secretary sat at a lonely desk ten feet away from Heihachi's door.

"Good morning, sir," she attempted with a nervous smile.

"Oh shut up you obsequious little sycophant."

Resisting the urge to cry, the young woman simply broadened her fake smile and passed Heihachi a list, "The list of bounty hunters you wanted."

Snatching the list, he began to skim it as he left her and slammed his office door. Stopping on the name he wanted, he couldn't help but smile. He walked over to his desk, and pushed a button on his phone.

"Delila, contact the fifth person on the list. Arrange a two o'clock," he barked.

"Done, sir."

"It's been a long time, DeLavega," Heihachi muttered as he took a seat and pulled an air-tight cylindrical container from his locked drawer. Opening it, he feasted his eyes once more on Sparda's scroll. He smiled and picked up his magnifying glass to glance over the stolen manuscript.

He skimmed over the cryptic symbols. Remembering the look on Dante's face when he saw his family heirloom, Heihachi couldn't help but laugh for a moment. He would take lots of pleasure in killing the halfling. After all, if it was one thing the Mishima elder hated, it was hypocrisy. What the hell was this half-demon doing hunting his own? Nevertheless, soon; soon Dante would meet his end. Perhaps Heihachi would use the scroll's ancient incantations. Now _that _would be ironic. Calming down the excitement and anticipation in his stomach, the old warrior sighed, _Soon,_ he assured himself.

* * *

_14h00_

Dionne swallowed and put on her game face. Walking into this building again would take every ounce of strength and restraint she had. She got through the main doors and past the security check into the lobby without incident. So far, so good—luckily the idiots hadn't gotten any better at detecting weapons on pretty girls.

"Miss?"

Noticing the lobby guard calling her to sign in, and interrogate her, she simply walked over and pulled a pen from her black messenger back.

"DeLavega," she said before the man could ask anything, "And Mr. Mishima's expecting me."

Trying to hide a pout, the guard pointed at the elevator. He hated being dismissed as being unimportant—something frequently done by those of the fairer sex.

Dionne walked to the elevator and heaved a great sigh. Getting on, she pushed the button for the 20th floor. Leaning against the back of the elevator, she shivered slightly as the cold steel in the small of her back slipped a little lower. Fiddling with the buttons on her tight, plunging polo top, she hardly even heard when the elevator alerted her as to her destination.

Getting off and walking towards the only door on the floor, she adjusted her low-rise jeans on her hips.

"Is Mr. Mishima expecting you?" the secretary asked with a sweet smile.

Dionne nodded.

"DeLavega?" she asked, seeming highly surprised.

_Here we go, _the bronzed vixen thought, shifting her weight to her right leg. Everyone had the hardest time believing a woman could be a bounty hunter. Most bounty hunters were women nowadays. Were these people still in the dark ages? Dionne rolled her eyes and glanced at her manicure while the secretary informed Heihachi of her arrival.

"He's ready for you," the small-voiced woman spoke.

"Has it really been a year?" Heihachi broke the ice as he stared into the young woman's murderous eyes.

"Fuck you. I don't work for you anymore," folding her arms, taking the defense.

"Ah…then what are you doing here?"

"You still owe me for my last job," she pointed out.

He slid a check across his desk, "With interest."

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, "What's with the sudden generosity?"

He smirked a bit, "I have another job for you."

"Forget it," as she walked to the desk and picked up the check. Then, she immediately turned around and started for the door.

Shrugging, "I thought you wanted to find Jin."

She stopped in her tracks and turned to face her former employer, egging him on.

"Evidence has been found to suggest…"

"Don't give me that CSI bullshit," she spat venemously.

"Don't tread on my good graces, Ms. DeLavega. You want to find Jin, and I do as well. You have the means and motivation to do so. So…what do you say?"

Dionne licked her lips slowly, "I'd sooner trust a snake not to bite me in the ass," she hissed, getting ready to storm out of the office.

Heihachi folded his hands and leaned back in his rolling chair, a dark look passing over his face, "If you don't help him, he'll be killed."

The bounty hunter stopped dead in her tracks, "Bullshit," she snapped automatically. "How do you kill someone that's already dead?"

"You never were good at listening were you? My grandson is still alive," Heihachi smirked snidely, "or did you miss that too?" knowing just how hard his words hit the girl.

"What difference would it make to you anyway?" sneering, though he could only see her back and shoulders tensing. She wouldn't turn to face him.

He loosened his hands and shrugged as innocently as he could fake, "I'm getting old. I need an heir for my empire. Otherwise, some asshole CEO will get everything."

"Some _other _asshole CEO," she muttered, shaking her head, "Either way, that's your problem. You should have considered that before you put the bullet in his head."

Dionne knew her voice cracked from the tears she was fighting harder and harder to keep from erupting from her eyes like passionate magma. Still, she kept walking, and left the old man to brood.

* * *

_14h32_

"Kazama disappears after Tekken," Dante muttered as his intense eyes skimmed over the computer screen. The more he read up on his bounty, the less he was liking what he'd gotten into. He rubbed his jaw noncomitally, feeling a bit of a five o'clock shadow.

Interrupting his thoughts with a shrill ring, the phone demanded his attention frantically. As he finished the last few lines of the article, he half-heartedly answered.

"Yeah," he muttered, still searching for information.

"I'm looking for Dante," a female voice replied on the line.

"Speaking."

"I need your help," she spoke, sounding quite hesitant on the line.

"I assumed as such," he retorted somewhat sarcastically.

"I want you to help me find a demon named Jin," she said, apparently not catching—or not commenting on—the unprovoked sarcasm.

Dante's interest was piqued, but he simply ignored the tingling feeling of intrigue, "I can't help you, miss. I can't find the same demon for two clients."

"Two?" clearly sounding surprised.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, deiciding not to even hear her out. To hear her out would mean digging himself further into what was turning out to be a twisted game.

Before he could say more, the line went dead in his ear.


	2. Chapter 2

The Hunter

By: Dionne R.

Disclaimer: _Devil May Cry_ is property of Capcom. _Tekken _is property of Namco.

Chapter 2

_00h00_

Cheap beer induced the laughter which floated along the hallways of the small, bio-chemical engineering research facility.

"I'm contemplating selling some of these secrets to the CIA or something," one of the doctors spoke, moving the beer bottle from his lips, "That old Mishima fart doesn't pay us enough."

"Oi, mind the cameras, Jack," another doctor sputtered out through bits of laughter.

"What's the fugger gonna do? Kill us?"

The entire room erupted into a fit of hysterical laughter just before the lights went out. The laughter was abruptly quelled.

"I think I've had one too many Corona's…"

"What the hell'd you put in these things? I'm blackin' out already."

A few more laughs rose from the group as one of the less smashed doctors spoke up, "The lights went out, idiot."

"I'll go hit the emergency lights," another one of the intoxicated researchers spoke heading down the hallway.

The hinges of the laboratory door creaked, causing the remaining researchers to move around, agitated, trying to pin-point the source of the noise.

Before they could, a sound reminiscent of flapping wings drifted around the room.

"What the…."

The sentence was never completed. An agonizing groan filled the void instead. The other doctors began to back up into the darkness after hearing a loud thud. Two ran off while one unfortunate researcher backed into a table full of equipment.

"Please!! Don't—!!"

Another groan. Another thud.

"Where'd everyone go?" The youngest doctor returned from switching on the emergency lights to find the room evacuated and tousled. His eyes fell and he gasped, noticing the two bodies. Scampering back, he bumped into a hard torso. Turning around, hoping for familiarity, his face twisted in unparalleled horror.

Fangs were his greeting. Fangs, and a stony glare fitted with red, burning eyes.

The man couldn't utter a syllable before the lurid-eyed figure lifted him by the throat.

* * *

_That asshole tricked me, _Dionne thought as she sharpened her sai. After trying to enlist one of the most prominent demon hunters to help her find Jin, she learned he'd already been hired by Heihachi. _To kill Jin…again, _she thought with a bitter chuckle.

Flipping the sterling silver family heirlooms on her index fingers, she slipped them into the inconspicuous sheathes on her black yoga pants. Grabbing a rubber band to put her hair up into a ponytail, she then reached for her motocross jacket—unveiling a picture of her and Jin.

_"You've never even met him," Dionne said as gently as she could, "I mean, if he were a concerned grandparent, he would have wanted to meet you sooner."_

_"What choice do I have, Di? Mom's…" Jin couldn't finish his sentence. He swallowed, and grudgingly finished his coffee._

She picked up her helmet and slipped her hair under it.

_The young woman took his face in her hands across the table, "I told you, we could move in together…"_

_Jin set a hand over hers and nuzzled it gently, closing his eyes with a sigh. He was silent for a moment._

"_I'll call you later," he finally said. Picking up his book bag and slugging it over his left shoulder, he rose. Kissing his girlfriend, he turned and headed for the limousine waiting outside the café. _

Dionne swallowed the anxiety building up in her throat, and left her apartment.

* * *

Dante's hunting intuition was burning in his chest. It was something he could never quite explain, but his bounty was always caught within 24 hours of the sensation. Cemeteries often triggered his instincts, but never so strongly. Setting his right hand on his gun, he couldn't even turn around before a strand of metallic links connected with his jaw. The force and inertia sent him cartwheeling through the air, hitting the ground like a stone being skipped on water.

Landing against a granite mausoleum, Dante looked just in time to dodge the fatal blow aimed at his head. He yanked out his sword. Slicing wind rather than his opponent, the blade was lodged into the wall as Jin moved back.

The demon was silent, as two lurid slits narrowed beneath furrowed brows. A wry smirk formed on his tattooed face and a smug grunt erupted from his throat.

Dante rose to his feet, dislodged his sword, and walked close enough to encircle his arrogant prey. _Fiesty, _he thought, flicking debris from his shoulder.

Gripping the sword, Dante lunged at Jin. The demon deflected the blade aimed at his heart with the chain links wrapped around his left wrist. Rather than attempting to discard the blade altogether, Jin grabbed both of the hunter's shoulders and pulled him to the ground. He then kicked at Dante's abdomen, sending him flying back. Jin completed his roll and turned around to see—much to his chagrin—that his opponent had already made it to his feet. More unfortunately, he was pointing a gun straight at his forehead.

It was the demon slayer's turn to smirk now. Just as his trigger finger instinctively coiled, a metallic clank distracted his concentration. A silver sai connected with his firearm—the longest dagger pinning the gun against the granite wall.

Jin's face morphed from shock to anguish as he soared into the night. The two remaining hunters were thrown off guard momentarily; but the prey was air bound before anyone could strike.

Even after a year, seeing his face—or what was left of it—forced Dionne's stomach into knots. With the pissed off demon hunter in front of her, though, she couldn't focus on the wave of various emotions overcoming her. Judging from the look on his face, a fight was bound to ensue.

Silver locks fell over Dante's steely-hued eyes. She could still see him glower at her under the pale moonlight.

"Who…the _fuck…_are you?"

She opted for silence, though she was ready for anything.

He walked over to his blade, kicking it up and keeping a firm grip on the handle, "No? Alright. Who sent you?"

Dionne pulled the spare sai from her back and flipped it with the one she already held in her left hand. Sidestepping silently, she eyed his stance. She wasn't taking any chances—especially since he hadn't yet sheathed his weapon.

"Well, whoever you are, that was once. Disrupt my kill again, and it'll be you," pointing the tip of his sword for emphasis, "to take his place." Dante then turned his back, sheathing the blade. He walked over to the wall where his gun was still dangling from her sai. He yanked the point out, and took his gun, letting her weapon fall to the ground.

"That's it?" she countered, tilting her head to the side, relaxing only slightly.

Dante looked over his shoulder, but didn't bother turning around, "I already warned you. As far as I'm concerned, there's no more business here."

She narrowed her eyes at him, but in her periphery, she noted a moving shadow. Focusing her eyes in the darkness, she hurled the sai towards the blur.

Dante spun around and withdrew his sword, ready to take her on; but he heard the thud close behind him. Both noted the masked figure who hit the ground within a foot of him.

"Glad to see you can do more than just play with your knives," he muttered, only partially concealing his surprise as he walked over to the body and pulled the sai out.

Despite his sarcasm, she smirked smugly, "I can do a lot more than that," she countered.

Dante couldn't help but quirk his lip into a smirk as he handed the weapon to the bounty hunter before pulling the corpse's mask off. "Interesting," he spoke, recognizing the man as one of Heihachi's personal bodyguards.

Dionne walked a few feet past where Dante stood and sheathed her sai, "What's interesting?"

Silence was her reply. She turned around and found the demon hunter gone.

* * *

_00h48_

Rubbing a temple as a light breeze blew through the window, Heihachi struggled to decipher the scroll. _Sparda you bastard, _he thought to himself. Rather than giving himself a worse migraine for the night, he switched the television on in time to hear a blonde news woman giving an update.

"…a homicide in a local cemetery. The victim, a Joseph Marquis, was found with a stab wound to the chest…"

The old man clenched his jaw and turned the volume down as his office phone trilled.

"Why the hell am I hearing about Marquis on the news?!" he snapped through the receiver.

"It was a slight mishap…" the voice on the line tried to explain.

"A 'mishap'? Dropping a nuclear bomb on a third-world country is a fucking mishap! Is she dead?"

The speaker hesitated, "No sir."

"You're not much use to me alive, are you?" the conglomerate snapped, slamming the phone down. Heihachi knew he wouldn't waste time or energy killing a measly body guard. The measly body guard on the other end did not.

Regaining his composure, which he knew was essential, Heihachi sighed and folded his hands. He sat back in his chair, _Plan B_ he thought.

* * *

_72 hours later…_

Dionne kneeled in front of the altar. Her face was bathed in candle light as she closed her eyes, muttering silent prayers. After the other night, she needed them. Dante had confused her—he could have killed her for getting in his way. _Perhaps I should have let the guy kill him_, she thought.

Deciding not to dwell on it further, she stood up and sighed. The priest was occupied with another, more devout member of the church; so she opted to leave.

The night was a bit chilly, and the moonlight seemed to add a bit of frost to the atmosphere. Still, this wasn't the reason for the shiver down her spine. After flouncing down the steps, she turned to observe the church's silhouette against the night sky. The same tingling from her last visit aroused her senses. She set her right hand on the gun, which once again rested in her jeans behind her back. Maintaining this stance for a moment, she finally convinced herself she was thoroughly paranoid. _It's all in your head, DeLavega, _she thought, turning around to head home.

"Holy shit," she nearly jumped out of her skin as she found herself looking into Jin's eyes. Caught between scolding herself for not being more intuitive, and wanting to jump on him, she decided the latter was more appropriate.

Jin didn't reciprocate the affection.

"What happened to you?" she asked gently, moving away from the firm embrace to caress his cheek.

He was silent, and removed her hand from his face. His eyes were cold, hard, unfamiliar. "Why did you get in the way?"

Her caring smile faded, "What, you mean when he had the gun to your head?"

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself," he snapped at her, "And if you interrupt again, I'll not leave you to him. I'll finish you myself."

She was too shocked for words, "Jin…"

He turned his back on her, "Stay away from me."

"Who the fuck _are_ you?" walking around him until she stood in his path, "And what did you do with the Jin I loved?"

The demon was no longer covered by any sort of shadow, and the bounty hunter could truly see into his eyes. They were pale with the exception of two black pupils. She clenched her jaw to prevent herself from shivering.

Reaching out and clasping his hand around the girl's throat, he yanked her face close to his own, "The one _you _knew is dead. The one here now has neither need of you, nor concern for you," he paused to let his words sink in. "You're alive for now; though I won't hesitate to snap your little neck," squeezing at her trachea slightly to prove it. "I have more than enough blood on my hands. A bit more won't make a difference," shoving her away. "You've been warned." He leapt into the air and bound into flight.

Dionne coughed violently from the cold hands which squeezed some of her air out. Her mind was reeling, not able to process the reality: this wasn't some twisted nightmare. The demon who so nearly ended her life just now was Jin—or what had replaced him.

_My God, _Dionne thought sadly. She blinked back tears, and started her trek home. Rubbing her throat, she couldn't ignore the voice in the back of her mind which echoed the truth: _He has to die._

* * *

_08h15_

_Why am I in this office again? _Dante thought as he walked through Heihachi's door.

"Prompt as usual," the Japanese elder smirked at the young man. Then, he got directly to the point, "So I heard your catch was interrupted."

"You heard, huh?" raising a silver brow.

Continuing the game, "I also heard the one responsible for interrupting your catch is still walking. Why?"

"I'm a demon hunter. You want a hit man, look elsewhere. Now if you don't mind…" Dante trailed off, turning around to leave.

"Dionne DeLavega," Heihachi said, leaning back in his chair.

The demon hunter took two more steps before stopping; he turned to look at the old man, "The bounty hunter?"

"Yes, her reputation precedes her…"

"And let me guess: I should use her as _bait_?" cutting him off.

"Precisely," smiling, "Then kill them both. If you kill Jin and leave her alive, she'll try to avenge him."

"How much?" Dante finally inquired.

"How much is it worth not to have your job interrupted anymore?"

"My job was to get you Jin. You want me to take out another hunter, it's gonna cost you."

"Always a professional, huh?" Heihachi toyed further, "Fine. Forty grand."

Dante thought of the cryptic woman who interrupted his kill. _She's an innocent, _he thought to himself, but sighed. If Heihachi wanted her dead, he'd have her dead—with or without his help.

"So?" Heihachi stared.

"Consider it done," he grumbled. Not wanting to stick around for any more propositions, Dante turned around and left without another word.

* * *

Jin watched the transaction, perched on the ledge of a building directly across from the Zaibatsu. As if he didn't have enough on his mind, seeing the old man at work made his blood boil. So many innocents killed at his hands. Though he never wanted it, he was a Mishima through and through; the murders sealed it. Pressing his eyes shut, he thought of Dionne. How he so nearly squeezed the life out of her. A slight twinge of pain—which he didn't think he was capable of any longer—shot through his chest. Grunting a bit, he tried to erase her from his mind. How could she love the monster he'd become? How could she understand what had to be done? He shook his head, knowing there was no hope of returning to his old life until the Mishima line was finished. In the few moments he spent gathering his thoughts, he noticed the demon hunter exiting Heihachi's office.

_So Gramps went through all the trouble of hiring the Son of Sparda to chase me? Why am I not surprised? _He thought, with a snort. Now, he had a new reason to track Dante down, besides mere precautionary measures. It was a simple matter of kill or be killed.

Judging from their last encounter, Jin knew the demon hunter was probably one of the only people on earth capable of this feat.

"Let the hunt begin," the demon whispered, his words blown away in the wind as he flew through the abandoned area.

* * *

_18h02_

A red target was painted on an oak column inside the dojo. The wood splintered at the bullseye point as the sterling silver sai flew into it.

Dionne nodded in satisfaction as she walked over to retrieve her weapon. She pulled it from the wood, and set it down with the other two.

She looked at the wall-high mirror at the back of the dojo, searching her own eyes. A tinge of pain streaked through her chest as she touched her throat, remembering how Jin had grabbed her. Grabbed her as if he never ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her lips; as if she meant nothing to him.

Rage then took the place of pain. The dingy punching bag felt the woman's fury as she executed a roundhouse kick followed by a series of punches. The chain creaked as the bag dangled. Hunters had no time for pain; it permeated one's senses, and caused even the best to slip up. Dionne took a deep breath. Rage turned to concentration and focus—her only allies.

Turning her back on the training equipment, she picked up her sai, and headed into the back locker room. A gym bag was open with a towel and change of clothing. Pulling the items out and slipping her sai into the bag, she sat down to take off her cross trainers. Standing up to bounce on the balls of her feet, she started to slip off her tank top. The cocking hammer of a semi-auto interrupted her.

She spun around, cursing herself for getting caught off guard, and stared into Dante's calculating, blue eyes.

"So _you're _Dionne. I expected a guy," he admitted.

"Most guys do. So…to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? Certainly, not my good looks?" she spoke, setting her right hand on her hip. Depending on the demon hunter's response, she could always pull the pin holding her hair up, and stab him somewhere in the neck.

"You never did tell me why you interrupted my job the other day," he started off, ignoring her sarcasm.

"Oh don't tell me your pride is just feeling the blow now. Talk about delayed response," rolling her eyes, and turning her back on him, "And would you please get that thing away from me if you're not going to shoot me?"

Dante was more than a little surprised, but he simply moved the gun an inch or so away from her head, and fired at one of the lockers.

Dionne faced him now, and his gun was lowered—though still accessible. She sighed, "I was trying to save him," she chuckled bitterly and shook her head.

"I figured as much. Why would you try to save a beast?"

"Because," she shrugged, "I knew what he was before he was a monster." She sighed, "But now I realized I was better off helping you kill him rather than helping him evade you."

_Can't say I was expecting that, _Dante thought. "Oh?"

"He wouldn't want to live this way."

"What if there was a way to save him? For you to have him back?" he spoke slowly, as if his conscience was choosing now—of all times—to kick in. "Would you try?"

She narrowed her eyes, obviously confused, "Why would you try to help me?" Clearly, she was referring to the conflict of interest due to who his employer was.

"True; but as soon as Jin is human, he'll be as good as dead to Heihachi. You get Jin, I get paid. Everyone's happy," he shrugged.

"And I'm just supposed to take this all in good faith?" she asked skeptically.

"Look," he said, finally putting his gun away. He closed the space between them a bit, in order to stare her in the eyes, "Whether or not you work with me, I'll get what I want."

Her spine tingled, and she stepped back to put space between them again, "Fine; I'm in."

He nodded. "I'll be in touch."

She groaned and stripped to go shower once he was out of her sight.


End file.
